


breaking point.

by emiliathegreat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Frank and the Reader have a past, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, avenger!reader, rating is for smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emiliathegreat/pseuds/emiliathegreat
Summary: reader is a former vigilante who is working with the avengers. it turns out the punisher has been tailing their target for a while already and has information that she needs to track the guy down.  the thing is, the reader and frank have a bit of a past. things get complicated.





	breaking point.

**Author's Note:**

> this was requested on my tumblr @darlingpeter!! and a second chapter of purely self-indulgent rough frank castle smut is in the works so stay tuned

There are many things you never expected to do in your life. You never expected to be recruited by the Avengers due to your ability in combat. You never expected to be going on missions with the heroes that were idolized by the whole world and living and training with them in upstate New York. 

Most of all, you didn’t expect to be standing on the middle of a dimly-lit run-down apartment hallway in Hell’s Kitchen standing outside a door whose numbers had faded to the point that they were almost unreadable.

_ “Lester ‘Swampdog’ Matthews.” Fury had said, standing at the front of the briefing room, pictures of the man’s face coming up on the screens behind him. “He has worked as a runner for several of the opium dens in the city, both distributing and collecting product.”  _

_ Clint scoffed, drawing glances from around the table. “Since when do we go after your average drug dealer?” He asked, and after a pause, the rest of the team murmured in agreement.  _

_ “Because,” Fury advanced the presentation, and pictures appeared of Matthews with a large group of bikers. “Swampdog was a member of the Dogs of Hell.”  _

_ The murmurs around the table turned quizzical. “I thought that The Punisher killed them all off.” Natasha said. _

_ “That’s what we thought too, but his face began popping up in security cams around the city months after his reported death.” Fury reported. _

_ “What exactly do we want with a gangster who’s cheated death?”  _

_ “He has information about a man named Orion Rosenthal, a German weapons supplier who has been selling alien parts that were scrapped after the Vulture was apprehended. We thought that they had been destroyed, but they started showing up in Europe in the past month.”  _

_ There were murmurs of understanding, but Fury held a hand up to silence them. “There’s only one problem: the man’s been living under the radar for months. All of our insiders have nothing on where he might be or when. All we have is proof that he’s alive.”  _

_ As disgruntled sounds make their way across the table, you furrowed your brow. You had an idea - it wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it if it would keep those weapons off of the streets where there was serious potential to do damage. You stood to your feet, and all eyes turned in your direction. “I think I have a way to get to Matthews.”  _

A siren wailed in the distance as you glanced around the hallway. He always kept to places like the one you were in, almost as if he were punishing himself in a way. After making sure that nobody was coming, you crouched in front of the door, taking your lockpicking kit out of your pocket and choosing the right tools for the job. With cheap locks like the one in front of you, it would be very fast and easy to gain access to the room, but you kept your guard up in case there were any surprises coming your way. With a definitive click, the deadbolt slid out of the lock and you pushed the door open carefully. 

The inside of the apartment was just as dilapidated as the hallway, the paint on the walls peeling and the inside reeking of dust and old wood. As soon you you closed the door behind you, you heard a quiet ruff, and turned to be face to face with a pit bull. Your immediate reaction was to freeze up, but you dropped to your knees as soon as you recognized the markings on its face. “Hi Maxy boy!” You whispered, and the pup trotted up to you, wagging his tail excitedly. You scratched behind his ears as he licked your face. 

“I always thought he liked you too much.” You heard a voice from the small kitchenette, and you turned to see none other than Frank Castle leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed. “Some fucking watchdog.” He had left some stubble on his jaw and his buzzcut had grown out enough to leave him looking scruffy. It was a look that he pulled off pretty well, if you did say yourself. 

“Don’t listen to him Max, you’re doing a great job.” You stage-whispered to the dog, and he licked your face once more before settling down on his bed in the corner of the room.

“What are you doing here, Bellona?” He asked. You hadn’t heard the nickname in ages. 

The truth was that you knew Frank. You knew him very well. 

You had actually had the opportunity to work with the notorious Punisher about a year previously. The both of you had grievances after the shootout in Central Park - He had lost his family in the crossfire, and you had lost a very close friend. The two of you had crossed paths while digging up information on who was involved with the shooting, and after he had threatened to kill you for stepping on his toes, you managed to strike up an agreement to work together and get revenge. 

It was highly emotional work, and eventually the two of you had developed some pretty heavy sexual tension. After he let his emotions guide his decisions while doing recon on the Kitchen Irish, where he found out that they would be going after you because you had been disrupting their shipments. Struck by rage and protective instinct, he attempted to wipe out the section of the gang on his own and without your extra firepower, but without proper reconnaissance he had underestimated the amount of hostiles in the area. He was overtaken and held captive for information on your location. 

Luckily, you were able to jump in to bail him out and finish the job that he couldn’t, and when the smoke cleared and you were back at his base camp, proclaimed that he “owed you one.” He agreed under the condition that you never spoke of your time working with him, and that the two of you went your separate ways . You had already taken down the ones who had done you wrong, so you weren’t hurt by the decision, though you knew that he was a long way from being through with his vendetta (he had many more jobs to go before his conscience was cleared). While authorities and journalists had given you the name Bellona while you were in cahoots with Castle, it was a moniker that had stayed in text, which left you off your guard when you were approached by the Nick Fury, asking for you by that name to join the Avengers team. 

A year and some months later, it was odd to be back in front of Frank’s icy stare, but you had a job to do.

“I’m here because you owe me a favor, Castle, and I’m here to cash it in.” You responded, sitting down at the kitchen table and swinging your feet up to rest against the surface. 

“Does Fury know you’re here?” A smirk formed on his lips. “I don’t wanna get you in trouble with your day job, sweetheart.” 

“He knows that I’m meeting with someone who I could potentially get information from. I didn’t mention who.” You told him, holding three of your fingers up in a mock salute. “Scout’s honor.” 

He narrowed his eyes, reading your expression and giving you a look like he wasn’t sure if he believed you, but his brow relaxed after a moment, and he released a sigh and an affirmative grunt. “What do you need?”

You smiled. You had broken down his defensive wall. Getting what you wanted should be easy from that point. “I need information on someone who has ties with a German weapons dealer who is of interest to the Avengers.” 

Frank scoffed. “Why the fuck do you think I would have anything on this guy?” 

“Because he was part of the Dogs of Hell.” 

That statement alone changed Frank’s demeanor completely. His gaze darkened and his jaw clenched as he let out a scoff. “Not possible.” He said bluntly. “They’re all dead. I made sure of it.” 

You shook your head, taking out a folder of information that was given in the debrief for the mission. Carefully, you took out the photos that had been taken from security cameras as well as the photos of the gang as a whole and laid them out on the table for Frank to see as proof. He examined them carefully, the stress lines in his forehead deepening as he looked between them all. 

You were worried for a moment. What if he wasn’t willing to tell you what he knew? Though you wouldn’t tell him this -- the whole op was based around getting information on his whereabouts, and Frank was possibly the only one other than your target and Rosenthal who had that. 

Frank let out a heavy sigh from his nose, standing up from the table and making his way to a side room. Your heart fell. What was he doing? Was this his way of saying that he wouldn’t help? Before you could let your mind go down that dark spiral of panic, Frank’s heavy footsteps made their way back over toward you, and the loud  _ thump _ of a heavy file folder hitting the table made you jump slightly. Castle took his seat back across from you and opened the folder, revealing his own collection of security camera footage and what looked to be travel documents and purchase histories. 

“Here’s the deal: I tell you what I know. But you don’t tell anyone where you got the information, and you leave me the hell out of your Avengers business in the future, got it?” His voice was gruff as he eyed you down. Unintimidated, you held out a hand across the now-cluttered tabletop.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” He shook your hand, his grip as firm as ever. “It’s lovely to work with you again, Mr. Castle.” 

 

From the information you were able to sort out with Frank and the resources that were available to you working with the Avengers, you had narrowed Swampdog’s location to a apartment building that had been put under renovation, but since its beginning, the project was abandoned, and the building itself had been condemned and cleared out.

“All units in position?” Cap’s voice sounded in your earpiece, and you gave the affirmative, stationed outside the run-down building with a group of two other agents. Your insight on the information gave you a front seat on this mission, and Cap’s knowledge of the area and leadership skills left him at the head of the op.  What was it with wanted felons and hiding out in places likely riddled with asbestos? You took your position with the rest of the team, and on Cap’s signal, the group made its way into the building and up the concrete stairwell. 

The building itself had been condemned three years prior, halting some sort of renovation in its tracks and half of the building’s rooms dismantled and covered with plastic sheeting. It absorbed sound differently than wood itself did, which made for an eerie ambiance as the group made its way down the right floor as silently as possible. Cap held up a hand in front of a door with the faded nameplate  _ 32B  _ tacked up next to the frame. “On my count.” He mouthed, and on three, he kicked the door in -- the chain breaking and the deadbolt splintering its way through the wood of the doorframe. Inside stood Matthews, visibly shaken with a shotgun in hand. Surrounding him were the flashing alarm lights of motion detectors. His cameras had been taken out around the building, but it seemed that the detectors had been missed in the sweep. His file had said that he was able to work with technology, but it wasn’t until you glanced over his setup that you realized the extent of the statement. 

“Drop your weapon and get down on the ground.” You boomed, but Swampdog wasn’t deterred.  

“ _ Fuck you _ !” He spat, looking frantically between you, Steve, and the other agent in the room. 

Steve threw a quick glance your way but you weren’t shaken by the biker’s outburst, and your gaze remained unwavered on the target. You answered levelly. “Drop your weapon and we’ll drop ours.” 

The tension in the room was absolutely suffocating. You had been trained in situations like this in order to read the target and assess the correct way to respond and urge them in the correct direction, but he looked like such a loose cannon with his wildly wide eyes that you weren’t sure if he’d try to take out all of you with one shotgun blast or turn the weapon on himself, leaving you on the fence with what exactly to say. 

You took a chance. “We don’t want to hurt you, Lester. We just want to talk.” You lowered your gun, and Steve let out a wary “Y/N?” You sent a determined look his way in order to let him know that you knew what you were doing before turning back toward Swampdog and holstering your weapon. You raised both of your hands in front of yourself, palms facing Matthews to show your vulnerability. “We just need to bring you in to ask some questions and then you can return to your life underground. You can disappear.” You paused for a moment. “We could help you disappear.” Even if Fury were to argue against giving this man a free pass, you were willing to fight tooth and nail in order to get him some kind of protection as long as he helped you track down Rosenthal. 

Though still very on guard, a thoughtful look passed through the eyes of the fugitive, as if he was considering his options. A tense moment or so passed before he gritted out a “fine, don’t shoot.” between his yellowed teeth, slowly crouching down to place his handgun on the ground. Your shoulders relaxed. This was going to be easier than you thought. 

Or, as karma would have it, it would be much, much harder. 

The glass of one of the apartment’s windows shattering had you following your reflexes, dropping to the ground. Had someone been watching over and protecting swampdog? Were you and your team trapped? How many more shots were on their way? You took a fraction of a second to suppress your panic before taking in what damage had been done, but as soon as you looked up, your heart sank. 

Swampdog was on the ground, his blood splattered on the wall behind him and a bullet hole through the back of his head. You barely had time to process the scene before the cell phone on his desk began to ring. 

Looking between the confused faces of the other members of your team, you strode carefully around the biker’s body to grab the burner phone. The number was unknown, but you picked it up anyway. 

The voice on the other end didn’t even wait for you to speak. “Correspondence with Rosenthal is on those computers, you didn’t need him alive.” 

It was Frank  _ fucking _ Castle. Your blood boiled and you saw red. 

“What the  _ fuck _ , Frank?” You hissed, trying to put as much poison into your words as possible. You could hear Steve and the other agent asking you who it was and what was going on, but you didn’t answer them, instead waiting on an explanation for why someone you had considered a partner decided to screw you over. You turned to the shattered window, eyes scanning the surrounding buildings. He had to be there somewhere. 

“You have a job to do, Bellona. I understand that. But I have a job to do too.” His gruff voice came just as you saw his hulking figure on the roof of a parking garage a block away. He caught your gaze, holding it steady. “See you around.” You swore you could see the same fucking smirk that almost got you into bed cross his features. 

“You son of a bitch.” You snarl into the receiver in time to see Frank hold up the phone, end the call, and then toss it off of the building to shatter to plastic pieces on the pavement. Then he was gone. 

You were snapped out of your blinding rage by a solid hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, what did you do?” Steve asked, his brow furrowed in frustration and anger. 

You were really in trouble now. 


End file.
